


Notice

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Ficlet, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Second War with Voldemort, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-26
Updated: 2007-12-26
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: After HBP, Ginny needs to be noticed, but she may not be prepared for when someonereallysees her.





	Notice

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

(Originally posted on May 25th, 2006)

Her face hurt. Her cheeks ached from smiling for so long. If she had taken the time to reflect on it, she would have been a little surprised at that fact. After all, over the past year and a half, she had become so used to forcing a bright smile on her face that the ache had become mockingly familiar.   
  
But she wasn’t going to reflect on it. Because that would mean thinking about _him_ , and the fact that she shouldn’t _have_ to force a smile onto her face. It was Bill’s wedding, and Harry should have been at her side all day, and she should have been dancing with him in his adorably awkward way, and she should have been so happy that she wouldn’t even have to _think_ about smiling. And her face sure as hell shouldn’t be hurting.  
  
Instead, he was huddled in corners, talking, always talking and discussing and frowning. Sometimes with Ron and Hermione, sometimes with Lupin, sometimes with McGonagall. But never with her. At that thought, rising unbidden in her mind, she almost frowned, but caught it just in time.  
  
“Ginny? Do you want something to drink?”   
  
She spun to find Neville standing nearby, a glass of punch in his hand. She immediately flashed him a smile, letting her cheek dimple as she shook her hair back away from her face. “Thanks Neville,” she replied, taking the offered drink. “But why are you wasting this on me?” she asked with a coy wink. “I’m sure there are plenty of other girls here that would appreciate the attention.”   
  
And she was a little surprised to find that she had meant it. Neville Longbottom may never have the easy-going good looks of Ron, or the appealing intensity of Harry, and his face would probably always be a little too round, but he nonetheless had _something_. A newly-found quiet confidence that was attractive in its own way. A thoughtfulness that put you at your ease. And, of course, he was a Longbottom, and there were plenty of young witches for whom that meant something.  
  
And so she took a sip of her punch, smiling slightly at him over the cup, letting her eyes twinkle at him as she delicately licked her lips when she lowered the glass. She knew that she was attractively positioned under the fairy lights in the garden of the Burrow and that her new dress robes—new! she still couldn’t completely believe it—flattered her trim figure. Of course, he would notice as well. It always felt so good to be noticed.  
  
Neville’s eyes were locked onto her face and she felt a little thrill of triumph run through her. Harry might be too absorbed with Ron and Hermione to pay any real attention to her, but at least she could get _someone_ to focus on her. And so she was utterly shocked to hear Neville’s next words to her.  
  
“Why do you do that?” he asked, the quiet rebuke obvious in his voice.  
  
“Do what?” she asked, and she knew that her face must have looked as surprised as she sounded.  
  
Neville shook his head and looked at her, _really_ looked at her. His expression was intent, and she could still see the disapproval. But it wasn’t unkind. She could see that as well. But then, this was Neville, and she doubted that he _could_ be unkind. He paused, and Ginny felt as if no one had ever studied her as closely as he seemed to do at that moment. “Why do you always put on a show for others?” he asked, curiosity and sympathy both in his voice. “I’ve been watching you all night,” he continued, ignoring the shocked look on her face, “and I’ve seen you laugh and smile and flirt with everyone you talk to. And it’s not just tonight. I’ve seen it all this past year at school.”  
  
Ginny just gaped at him, too stunned to affect outrage and storm off, which is exactly what she knew she _should_ have been doing. Instead, she felt her mouth dry up and her hand shake slightly. But old habits die hard, and so she forced a laugh, but it came out dry and mechanical rather than the silvery peal that she had aimed for. “Oh, Neville,” she finally responded, her tone sounding false even to her own ears, “what are you on about? You know me. Always in a good mood. And it’s a wedding! Of course we should be having fun!”  
  
At that, Neville took the glass out of her hand and set it down on the nearest table. He stepped a bit closer to her and took one of her hands in his own. “Ginny,” he began in a lowered voice, “I know that people change. I mean, look at _me_. I couldn’t help changing. But we do have choices, you know. And I just think that when we change it should be because we want to, for ourselves. Not because we think that’s what other people want.”  
  
“I—I... I know that,” Ginny whispered back at him, unable to move even though a part of her mind was screaming at her legs to run away.  
  
“Really?” he asked, his eyes so full of gentleness that Ginny's own eyes began to well up with tears. “Because it seems to me that you smile even when you’re not happy. And that you laugh and joke even when you’d rather be screaming. And that you watch him, hoping that he’ll start to watch you again.”  
  
At that, the tears did begin to fall, and she used her other hand to quickly swipe them away. “Is that so wrong?” she asked, quietly but with no anger. “Is it so bad to want to be liked? To have people think that you’re special?”  
  
Neville just stared at her and gave her hand a thorough squeeze. “No,” he finally answered, a slight smile on his lips. “I suppose…” he began, but paused, looking away from her and releasing her hand. She would later be surprised as to how much she had regretted him letting her small hand drop out of his larger one. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. “I suppose I just wanted to let you know that... that I thought you were special even before.”   
  
If she could have seen her own face she would have seen that the tears were gone, replaced instead with a wide-eyed wonder. And with that he gave her a quick, shy smile and slowly walked away towards a laughing crowd that had gathered around Fred and George. And she just stared after him.  
  
The End.


End file.
